


Will You/Won't You

by Auber_Gine_Dreams



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Feelings Realization, M/M, Porn with Feelings, but like a second time, idolverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auber_Gine_Dreams/pseuds/Auber_Gine_Dreams
Summary: The thing they never tell you about being in a group like this is that you go in with strangers and come out with a complex set of strings connecting you. Everyone is everyone’s, but at the same time some of them exist on a separate plane. Jeonghan and Joshua. Jun and Myungho. Not off limits, exactly. If they are all connected by strings these are connections forged of steel. Permanent, unbreakable things.Wonwoo had someone like that a long time ago.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Comments: 15
Kudos: 173
Collections: Haggly 2: The Remix





	Will You/Won't You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [figure8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/gifts).
  * Inspired by [this most assuredly counts](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25650670) by [figure8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8). 



> Len I love you very much and I'm so glad this got you :)
> 
> Sometimes you talk about Meanie in a hotel room in Chicago until 3am and your whole viewpoint changes.
> 
> I have a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0a5NNb257Tcuzyt6Czphon?si=V8bOrln4Q3mg36q4WzKWmA) that's sort of a General Meanie Feelings playlist, but it really got me while I was writing this.

Wonwoo collapses on the bed closest to the door, buries his face in the stiff blanket and lets all his breath whoosh out of him. Chicago went just as smoothly as New York. Well, as smoothly as any show can go when they’re down a member. 

Mingyu walks in and shuts the door, sighing so loudly Wonwoo can’t help but roll his eyes. Footsteps continue further into the room but stop a little early. He can feel Mingyu standing in front of his bed, like a film, like a ghost.

“Joshua hyung and Seokmin are doing a live right now,” Mingyu says. “We should go over and say hi.”

Wonwoo doesn’t move, wishes more than anything that Mingyu will think he’s asleep and leave him alone. 

They’re both quiet for a few beats.

“You seriously can’t still be mad about earlier.” Mingyu grabs his calf and shakes. “I said I was sorry.”

Tell that to the probably still visible palm print on his ass. Wonwoo sighs and finally turns his head enough to look at Mingyu. It’s been a long time since he’s looked up at Mingyu like this. 

It’s funny how you can spend so much time actively avoiding someone but the moment you’re together it’s like no time has passed at all. Wonwoo can read every micro-expression on Mingyu’s face, and he knows the same is true for Mingyu.

“Okay,” Wonwoo says, running a hand through his hair in the hopes it looks less sweaty. “Just to say hi.”

  
  
  


Wonwoo opens Facetime while Mingyu is in the shower. He went first, hair still damp and curling around the nape of his neck. Mingyu’s phone is blasting some pop song Wonwoo has heard before but doesn’t know the name of. The walls are thick enough that all he hears is a muffled melody. 

It rings three times, and then Seungcheol is there. It’s some time in the afternoon for him (Wonwoo is too tired to do the actual math), he can tell from the way the sun shines through their dorm window. Seungcheol grins at him through a hello before his eyebrows furrow. 

“You should be asleep,” he says, mouth turning down. “Why are you still up?”

Wonwoo sighs and flops back against the pillow. He holds the phone in front of his face, decides immediately he doesn’t like it and curls on his side instead. 

“Jet lag.”

“Still?” 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says with a nod. 

Seungcheol hums. He’s been growing out his hair since he went on hiatus. Just a little. Just enough that Wonwoo always wants to be running his fingers through it. 

“There’s something else,” Seungcheol says. 

“Fine.” Wonwoo tries to prop the phone against the pillow next to him and it falls, Seungcheol forced to stare at the blank white ceiling for a moment while Wonwoo rights him. “I miss you.”

And that makes Seungcheol smile. Seungcheol is like a rock, an anchor, with a love that is all-consuming. The thing is that if Wonwoo let himself, he could fall in love with everyone in the group. Love is everywhere, and maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel like his entire world is upended every time it happens to him. But Seungcheol, with his love like an anchor, like armor, is the kind of love that Wonwoo wants but doesn’t know how to ask for. Seungcheol never makes him ask, though. It’s how they’ve worked for so long. 

“You being sweet tells me it’s something you don’t want to talk about.” Wonwoo groans. Seungcheol chews on his bottom lip. “You can tell me, you know. Just because I’m not there doesn’t mean I can’t fix it.”

The shower is still running, but Wonwoo doesn’t know how much time he has left alone.

“I’m with Mingyu tonight,” he says softly. He holds the phone a little closer and pretends they’re in the dorm together, two bodies on a bed barely big enough for one. Wonwoo knows every curve of Seungcheol’s face even in the dark. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Seungcheol asks, somewhere between teasing and serious. “It’s just one night. You’ll be okay.”

Wonwoo sighs and scrubs his hand over his face. When he looks back at the phone Seungcheol is watching him quietly, patiently. “I know. It’s just...I’d rather be with Jun.” Wonwoo can’t help the smile that spreads over his face. “Or you.”

It’s not like they hate each other. There are some members that can’t be left alone or it’ll end with the whole group getting kicked out of the hotel, but Wonwoo can get along with everyone pretty well. Wonwoo even _likes_ Mingyu. Seungcheol is just nice enough to let him complain.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Seungcheol says. He sprawls out on Wonwoo’s bed. The sun shines through the window, shows the red tint in his hair and turns his eyes into gold. “It’s so quiet without everyone. It was nice at first. Now it’s just weird.”

The water stops. The shower curtain slides open, a low din from the other side of the wall. Wonwoo sighs. 

“I have to go, hyung.” In another life, this is where Wonwoo would say it. In this one, he says his goodbyes and fake gags when Seungcheol blows him a kiss through the screen. 

The thing they never tell you about being in a group like this is that you go in with strangers and come out with a complex set of strings connecting you. Everyone is everyone’s, but at the same time some of them exist on a separate plane. Jeonghan and Joshua. Jun and Myungho. Not off limits, exactly. If they are all connected by strings these are connections forged of steel. Permanent, unbreakable things.

Wonwoo had someone like that a long time ago. Now the closest thing he has is Seungcheol, but he’s got Jeonghan and Joshua. Or maybe Jun, but he’s got Myungho, but Myungho has this thing with Seokmin and Mingyu. The strings are so tangled at this point in their lives it’s impossible to really sort them out.

When Mingyu walks out of the bathroom he’s wearing a loose pair of pants and nothing else. His hair is barely towel dried, and Wonwoo can’t help but blurt out, “You’re going to get sick.”

Mingyu makes a face, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“I haven’t been sick this entire time,” Mingyu says. “I take good care of myself, unlike _some people_ who just started working out and think they know everything.”

Wonwoo watches a drop of water from Mingyu’s hair trail down from his collarbone and get stuck in the place his arm touches his chest. He does his best to look like he didn’t pay it any mind. Mingyu has always had a nice body, but age and fitness have done wonders for him. Honestly, Wonwoo can’t really blame him for acting the way he does on stage. 

“Don’t be mean,” he says, feeling petulant. “I didn’t just start. It’s been nearly a year and a half.”

Mingyu uncrosses his arms and uses his hand to shake some of the water from his hair. Wonwoo definitely ignores the way his arm flexes and chest moves. He watches a few different expressions cross Mingyu’s face before he settles on a smirk. He holds his hand up, wiggling his fingers.

“It’s paying off. I could really tell a difference, hyung.”

Wonwoo nearly tosses a pillow at his head. He sighs and rolls over to face the wall. 

“Dry your hair before you go to sleep,” he mutters, shutting his eyes. “It’s freezing.”

He hums an agreement. Wonwoo can feel how much he wants to say something else, but he gives up on the idea after a few minutes. There’s nothing but the sound of Mingyu’s feet on the carpet, the soft slide of his suitcase against the bed.

He wonders if Mingyu wants to say thanks. If he appreciates that Wonwoo cares about him, even a little bit. If you make a home inside of someone, what happens to it after you leave?

He falls asleep before he can think about the answer.

  
  
  
  
  


In Dallas, Myungho is sick. Not so bad that he can’t perform, but bad enough that he should probably sit it out. He doesn’t, just takes some medicine Seokmin slips him and manages to make it through the performance before he finds the first body to slump against. (Seokmin, this time. Wonwoo doesn’t pay too much attention to it, or to the look Mingyu gives them both).

They drive to Houston and Myungho is worse. He’s barely standing, all things considered. Mingyu is the one to help him into the hotel lobby, dropping him into the first chair they find. Jun takes two key cards and walks over to them.

“You’re rooming together,” he says, a statement. A fact. Wonwoo understands, really. He reaches out and touches Jun’s forearm, tries his best to tell him that it’s going to be okay, that he’s here if he needs him. Myungho is his shelter, his home away from home, but that doesn’t mean he has to do this all alone. 

Mingyu asks Myungho how he’s doing and he tugs Mingyu closer, drops his head against his stomach and makes a very pathetic sound. 

Wonwoo can’t make out what he says, but Mingyu laughs in a decidedly fond way. 

“I think you’ll survive,” he says, running his hand through Myungho’s hair. “We’re leaving you in good hands.”

  
  


Mingyu showers first this time. Wonwoo sends a frantic text to Seungcheol as soon as he hears the curtain slide shut. 

_Myungho is sick. I’m with Mingyu again._

He falls back against the bed with a sigh. He’s on the one closest to the window, giving Mingyu the one by the door. There’s a part of his brain that must think changing everything up will make it better. Dramatics again. Things were fine in Chicago. Wonwoo has done this a thousand times before. It’s just that Mingyu is Mingyu, and eventually he’s going to talk just a little too much, put his hand on Wonwoo even though he knows it pisses him off. 

He’s going to ask Wonwoo something they’ve both been putting off for years. Wonwoo still isn’t ready to answer him.

His phone pings in his hand. From the home screen, he can see Seungcheol’s reply. 

_Good. You should take this for the opportunity it is and fix things with him._

Wonwoo almost groans out loud. Of course he would say that. Ever since they started sharing a room (and they _are_ , the bed in the living room is more a communal space than something of his own), Seungcheol has been trying to get him to get over this...whatever it is with Mingyu. 

It was too much too fast at the worst possible time, but Wonwoo doesn’t think Seungcheol would really understand. Mingyu is a lot like Seungcheol in that they both love all the way. There’s no hesitance. When they decide to love someone, it’s game over. Seungcheol is older, and maybe that’s why it’s never felt oppressive. 

With Mingyu it’s the fan attention, too, if Wonwoo is being honest. When every glance is seen as one full of longing it makes you not want to look.

Wonwoo has never told Mingyu this. He doesn’t really know where to start. Seungcheol thinks he should, though, and that matters. Wonwoo doesn’t want things with Mingyu to be weird forever, especially not with the two of them working on videos in addition to their schedules. 

_What do you think I should do?_

Three little dots pop up right away. Wonwoo stares at his phone, waiting.

_Tell him. Or show him._

He sends back the eye rolling emoji, and Seungcheol fires back the smirking emoji. Great. He might has well have said _just fuck him about it._

He looks up and Mingyu is there. This time in just a towel. It almost feels like Seungcheol is texting Mingyu too, the two of them conspiring against him to get Wonwoo to fuck through his feelings. It would be easier than trying to explain it all. 

It’s not like he wouldn’t, not like he hasn’t slept with Mingyu.

Mingyu’s eyes linger on him.

“It’s all yours,” he says. His hand is hovering at the towel cinched on his hips. 

Wonwoo sighs and rolls out of bed. He has to walk past Mingyu to get to the shower. Maybe it’s the constantly keyed up energy of touring or the constant proximity, but Wonwoo is acutely aware of how much taller Mingyu is when he gets close. 

He’s staring. He should stop.

“Like what you see?” Mingyu asks, shameless. He runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back, eyes locked with Wonwoo.

“Get over yourself,” Wonwoo says, too soft to carry any real weight.

“We both know you’re attracted to me,” Mingyu says with a smirk that makes Wonwoo want to scream. “You think about it sometimes. Fucking me.”

Tell him. Or show him.

Fine.

Wonwoo steps closer. The backs of Mingyu’s legs are touching the bed. There is nowhere for him to go.

“What if I do?” Wonwoo asks, voice low between them. “Is that what _you_ want? For me to fuck you?”

Mingyu’s chest is still like he’s stopped breathing, eyes wide as he searches Wonwoo’s face. If Wonwoo were anyone else Mingyu would think he was joking. They both know he isn’t.

Wonwoo takes another step, close enough to touch. Maybe it’s the tour wearing him down. Or maybe Seungcheol is right. Maybe it’s time to fix this.

“Can I kiss you?” Wonwoo asks, eyes flickering down to Mingyu’s mouth. 

Wonwoo remembers the first time they kissed, back when they were almost the same height. When Mingyu still slept in the bunk under him. Hesitant not because Wonwoo wasn’t sure but because it was the first time he had ever kissed anyone. It was a small thing, and then a messy thing, and then Wonwoo was somewhere between crying from how hard he was laughing and feeling every single blood cell coursing through his veins.

Mingyu finally breathes. He nods in that over eager way he does when he can’t hide how much he wants something. He looks like he wants to say more, but Wonwoo wraps a hand around the back of his neck and kisses him. 

It takes Mingyu a moment to get into it, like he still can’t believe this is happening (honestly Wonwoo kind of can’t either, but it seems counterproductive to take it back now). He wraps his hands around Wonwoo’s waist and presses their bodies together. He lets Wonwoo tilt his head and slide his fingers through Mingyu’s damp hair. He’s better at this, but Wonwoo is, too.

Mingyu’s tongue curls around his and Wonwoo makes a sound low in his throat. Mingyu is so infuriatingly the same in some ways. Like the way his hands linger on the small of Wonwoo’s back. He’s also very different in ways Wonwoo hasn’t had the chance to experience. More relaxed, like he’s finally realized that being an idol is more temporary than forever. That what they’ve built over the years is real, of course it is, but it only exists in the spaces between their bodies, in the hushed quiet of hotel rooms. 

When they break apart Mingyu doesn’t waste time. He drops the towel and falls back against the bed, moving up to make room for Wonwoo and tucking his hands under his head. 

Mingyu is hot. He is golden and sculpted and it makes Wonwoo want to get on his knees in a way he won’t be explaining out loud. 

“Are you just gonna stare, hyung?” Mingyu asks, eyes half lidded. 

Wonwoo sighs and pulls his shirt over his head. Mingyu drinks him in like he thinks he’ll never get another chance. They’ve seen each other in the backstage frenzy, pulling on new outfits as fast as they can shed the old ones. It’s different, here. Wonwoo kicks his pants and underwear to the side and climbs on the bed. Mingyu’s eyes on him are equal parts embarrassing and thrilling. 

“Now who’s staring,” Wonwoo says, settling on top of him. Mingyu wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him down into another kiss, lazy and open. He loses himself to it, the easy slide of lips, the taste of Mingyu’s mouth, the half hard press of him against Wonwoo’s hip. 

Mingyu rolls his hips against Wonwoo, friction dizzying. It feels good. So, so good to be kissing him, bare skin on bare skin. 

“I want to blow you,” Wonwoo says when they break apart. Mingyu’s cock twitches against his hip and his breath comes out warm and shaky. Wonwoo rocks against him just to watch the way his face goes dark with want.

“Please,” he says. 

“You’re still so _polite_ ,” Wonwoo says with a grin. Mingyu shoves at his shoulder, the lightest flush of pink across his cheeks. 

“Are you going to be like this all night?” Mingyu asks. 

Wonwoo moves down until he’s eye level with Mingyu’s dick. “Like what?”

“Teasing.”

Wonwoo locks eyes with Mingyu and wraps a hand around him. He makes the slide slow, his hand feather light, the barest whisper of friction for a few strokes, enough to have Mingyu chewing on his bottom lip and fighting to keep his hips on the bed.

“You’d know if I was teasing you,” Wonwoo says, tightening his hand and stroking him faster. 

When Mingyu is twitching against his hand, Wonwoo presses his tongue against the underside of his cock, licking that sensitive spot that has Mingyu muffling a moan against his hand. The sounds Mingyu makes shoot through him, tapping into something secret and forbidden that has Wonwoo nearly pressing a hand to his cock to ease the arousal.

Mingyu must notice. He spreads his legs a little wider and hitches his breath on purpose when Wonwoo’s tongue dips into the slit. 

“You always did like giving head,” Mingyu says with too much fondness. 

He’s right, but that doesn’t mean Wonwoo is going to give him any kind of response. He focuses instead on licking Mingyu from base to tip and sinking down on his cock. Mingyu’s hand goes straight to the back of his head, tightening in his hair while Wonwoo takes his time, bobbing up only to sink just a little further down. 

Once he’s got Mingyu as deep as he can take him comfortably he looks up at him through his lashes and nods. Mingyu groans, cock twitching against his tongue as he presses down on Wonwoo’s head, fucking his mouth. He swirls his tongue over as much of Mingyu as he can reach and finally allows his hand to drift between his legs. 

“ _God_ that’s hot,” Mingyu groans. Wonwoo hums around him, shivering as he wraps a hand around himself. There’s comfort in being with Mingyu. He doesn’t have to hide away the things that he wants. He kind of forgot about that.

“Can I?” Mingyu asks like he’s reading Wonwoo’s mind, stopping for a moment to let Wonwoo off his cock. He takes a moment to catch his breath. His lips are tingling and his mouth feels slick and used and all he wants to do is come. 

“Yeah,” Wonwoo says, voice already cracking. He almost reminds him to be careful. On one hand Mingyu knows. On the other, Wonwoo doesn’t really care.

His hand is back on Wonwoo’s head but he lets him control the pace this time. Wonwoo swallows down Mingyu’s cock until his nose touches his pelvis, until there is nowhere for him to go. He flattens his tongue against the underside and tightens his hand on himself and listens to the sound of Mingyu’s heavy breathing. 

Mingyu lets out a string of curses and Wonwoo’s name and soft moans that gain volume the longer Wonwoo stays there. He lets up just enough to breathe and goes right back down, a slow rhythm that has him seeing static every time he blinks up at Mingyu.

He lets up when Mingyu’s thighs start shaking, pulling off with a gasp. There’s a warm buzz under his skin. He strokes himself one more time before letting his hand fall away. Mingyu looks wrecked. It’s a good look for him.

“There’s lube in my suitcase,” Mingyu pants. Wonwoo almost rolls his eyes. Of course there is. 

“Why did you bring lube?” Wonwoo asks, leaning over the bed and digging around until he finds it. “You thought you’d have time to fuck around?”

“Obviously,” he laughs, gesturing between them when Wonwoo tosses the bottle on the bed and settles between Mingyu’s thighs. “I was planning on it.”

It sounds cocky, but Wonwoo doesn’t have much room to say anything. It’s not like he hasn’t packed things during tour with the fleeting hope of using them later. His gaming phone. The massager that is very obviously a vibrator.

He doesn’t spend a lot of time working Mingyu up. He’s careful (they’re on tour and people are dropping like flies and he won’t be the reason Mingyu can’t get on stage if he can help it), opening up Mingyu like he hasn’t done this in a while. 

Two fingers and Mingyu is all tight heat and hitched moans, planting his feet on the bed so he can roll his hips at a better angle. It’s funny how Wonwoo still remembers the way Mingyu likes it, just when to crook his fingers to have him gasping, fingers twisting in the sheets, but if you asked what his favorite song was Wonwoo wouldn’t be able to say. 

The sound he makes when Wonwoo adds a third finger and leans down to suck on the head of his cock is nearly a whine. He works them faster, pressing up into Mingyu’s prostate on every thrust. He takes Mingyu deeper and his thighs tighten around Wonwoo’s body, holding him there.

A few more thrusts and Mingyu’s hand tangles in his hair again. 

“I’m ready,” he pants. Wonwoo slides his fingers out and comes off his dick and Mingyu grins. “You’ve done more than enough, hyung.”

So Wonwoo likes foreplay. There are certainly worse vices. 

He slicks himself up, aching when he touches himself. It’s been too long. Rushed handjobs really can’t compare to the feeling of someone under you, above you. 

He lines up, hands on the backs of Mingyu’s thighs.

“Ready?” he asks. For a second he sees Mingyu on a bunk bed in the dark, a memory, a ghost. Mingyu’s eyes are warm and his smile is lazy when he nods.

“More than.”

Wonwoo presses in, lacing their fingers together the way they used to. Mingyu’s eyes widen but he doesn’t say anything about it. He’s probably worried he’ll break the spell. It’s ok. Wonwoo kind of is, too.

He bottoms out and it feels like he’s run a marathon, like he’s standing on stage waiting for the lights to go up. Mingyu stares up at him and relaxes into the mattress, rubbing his thumb across the back of Wonwoo’s hand. 

“You can move,” he says. “But, just —”

Wonwoo leans down and kisses him because Mingyu always wants it close and eager and open. It’s awkward to still be holding his hand but he can’t seem to let go. He moves his hips, thrusts into Mingyu gently, shoves his tongue inside Mingyu’s mouth. One of them moans, or maybe both of them do. 

He sets an efficient pace, slow enough to enjoy it but fast enough that it won’t take long for either of them. Mingyu’s cock smears precum against his skin. Mingyu’s leg wraps around his waist and Wonwoo breaks the kiss, burying his face in Mingyu’s shoulder. 

“God,” Mingyu breathes, “Hyung, you feel —”

“You, too,” Wonwoo says. He nips at Mingyu’s neck just to feel him arch into it, rolling his hips to meet Wonwoo’s thrusts. 

He presses a final kiss to his neck and gets up on his knees, hauls Mingyu up and slams into him. Mingyu moans, squeezing their linked hands. 

It’s like watching a reel of his life. 

Here is Mingyu, arms wrapped around his back in that horribly bright green room. Here is Wonwoo pulling Mingyu closer by his tie, coming willingly. Here is Mingyu kissing his hand on stage, so many recordings Wonwoo cannot deny what he felt when it happened. Here is Wonwoo and the distance between them in the shape of Seungcheol or Hansol or Jun. Here is Mingyu, glowing in the hotel lights in Houston, squeezing Wonwoo’s hand before reaching down to wrap a hand around his cock. 

He slams into Mingyu faster, brushing past his prostate on every thrust. Wonwoo bites his lip to muffle a swear, staring into Mingyu’s eyes. Mingyu’s hand speeds over himself, the tip of his cock shiny with precum. Wonwoo reaches out to rub his thumb across, licks the taste of it off and Mingyu keens. 

“ _God,_ ” he moans on an exhale. 

“You flatter me,” Wonwoo says because he can’t resist it. Mingyu smiles in a really blissed out way and bucks up into his fist. 

Mingyu chews on his bottom lip, muscles tensing. Wonwoo grinds into him, makes a sound near a growl, and this is what tips him over the edge. Mingyu comes all over his hand, tightening around Wonwoo so much his spine crackles with desire. It would be embarrassing how quickly orgasm crashes through him, but he’s kind of too far gone to care. 

He stares down at Mingyu’s flushed skin, his spent cock, the way his hand looks wrapped around himself. He pulls out and jerks himself to completion, adding to the mess on Mingyu’s skin.

He falls forward but catches himself on his hands. Mingyu grins, and then he laughs, and then he kisses Wonwoo on the mouth like they are the only two people in this hotel in the middle of America. 

Here is where Mingyu would say it, has said it what feels like a lifetime ago. Wonwoo braces for it, for the way he’s going to have to deflect it somehow. Love like being chained at the bottom of a river.

But then he presses a quick kiss to Wonwoo’s nose and says, “Do you mind if I rinse off with you?” 

  
  
  


After a quick shower, Wonwoo falls into his bed. Mingyu is still awake, body turned to face him. He’s probably still naked. 

“You should put something on before you fall asleep,” Wonwoo says. “Who knows when filming will start.”

“When did you stop?” Mingyu asks softly. In the dimly lit hotel room Mingyu looks incredibly young.

“Stop what?” Wonwoo asks even though they both know what he’s asking.

Mingyu props his head on his hand. His voice is so soft Wonwoo almost doesn’t hear him. 

“Wanting me.”

It’s easier to say it after sex (which is why Seungcheol told him to show if he couldn’t tell but he’s not going to dwell on it). Wonwoo sighs. “I didn’t know what was waiting for us after debut. There were a lot of expectations. I was twenty years old. It was terrifying.” He slips his glasses off to scrub at his face. “I never stopped. I just didn’t want everyone to see.”

Mingyu laughs and it sounds relieved. When he looks across the room Mingyu looks like he’s finished a marathon, sprawled on the bed with a smile on his face. 

“I hope they put you in the show just like this,” Wonwoo says, exasperated. “I’m going to sleep.”

He rolls over to face the wall and Mingyu’s laugh trails off into a fond kind of hum. 

“Good night, hyung.”

  
  
  
  


After Myungho, Jun is the next one to go down. By the time they get to San Jose he’s stuck in bed. This time, Myungho takes care of him. This time, Wonwoo doesn’t feel the oppressive weight of sleeping in the same room as Mingyu. When he texts Seungcheol as much he gets the most awful set of heart and smirk and wink emojis. 

“I think I’m gonna edit the video tonight. Do you want to check it out?” Mingyu asks him in the hotel elevator. 

The back of their hands are close enough to brush together. It’s kind of nice. Grounding. Wonwoo would never say it out loud, but he’s kind of missed this.

“Yeah,” he says. Mingyu’s smile is horribly fond even out of the corner of his eye. 

For a long time Wonwoo thought all the room in his heart was a bad thing, but as the years go on it seems silly to try to fit himself into some imaginary mold. Maybe this year, he’ll work on letting everyone take a little piece for themselves. 

Mingyu staked his claim a long time ago, and maybe that’s the answer. The home Mingyu made for himself is still there. Wonwoo just has to tidy it up a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/woncheoling) // [Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/tsukkitaeil)


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